Across the Sands of Time
by PhoenixFeatherPen
Summary: As Jafar searches his crystal for a sign of the rumored Cave of Wonders, an unepected vision appears...one that he can not look away from. Seven centuries later, Belle cannot shake the feeling that someone is watching her. The storm swirls them into a place neither could have ever imagined...
1. Chapter 1

_Agrabah, 1000_

Jafar's dark eyes narrowed as the storm raged outside of his tower and lightning streamed into a massive ruby. The legend said the Tiger Head Cave had a key; a golden scarab. The scarab would grant him access to all the powers of the world, if he could just find it. He leaned closer to his viewing orb, searching for a clue. The swirling sands of the orb condensed, and Jafar frowned. The sands would always swirl and then thin, but never condense. A deafening crack of thunder rent the air and the orb was suddenly clear. But the image seemed to have nothing to do with the scarab, the Tiger Head Cave, or the hidden lamp. Instead, it was the image of a beautiful young woman, with pale skin, far paler than any Jafar had ever seen. He might have thought she was a spirit of some kind, but her blue dress was so outlandish that he dismissed the idea at once. Despite the kneejerk reaction to start with a new gem, and to seek the scarab key, something about the image held his attention. Something that wouldn't let him look away…

 _Provincial France, 1769_

Belle was polishing her father's tools as a surprise for him when he returned from the fair. She glanced up as a ferocious peal of thunder shook the night, and smiled. The book she was currently poring over had a scene with a tremendous thunderstorm. Her thoughts wandered as she thought of the thunder hiding the dragon's roars from the villagers in her book, when the back of her neck suddenly prickled, as though someone was watching her. She gripped the wrench she was holding tighter and glanced around. But the thick curtains were drawn and, of course, there was no one else in the house.

And yet she couldn't shake the feeling.

The storm crashed around the little house and Belle was growing tenser and tenser. She kept glancing over her shoulder, certain that someone was standing just out of her eyesight. The clock ticked on, and she vaguely decided that the presence was a masculine one. For what reason, she couldn't quite say, but she was certain. As soon as she came to this decision, she realized with surprise that in addition to being on edge, she was also highly aroused. The muscles between her legs were incredibly taught, and she knew if she put a finger there, the finger would come away slick.

It was inconceivable that anyone actually was watching her, therefore it must be all within her mind…although she had never fantasized about being watched, and she couldn't deny that the coil of muscles between her legs was winding tighter and tighter. It was the only feasible explanation.

Her hands drifted to her breasts, and a moan escaped as she massaged them through the front of her dress. That was one of the few good things about her father's absences; she could succumb to ecstasy and not worry about her volume. The thunder crashed outside, and Belle shivered, imagining she could feel the thunder shaking her very bones. A ball of warmth flared behind her stomach as her fingers rubbed across her breasts. Breathing carefully through her nose, Belle headed for her bed, undoing the front of her dress as she went.

The storm raged on.


	2. Chapter 2

_Agrabah, 1000_

Jafar clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles white. If he wanted a woman, there were slaves aplenty in the palace. He needed to be searching for the scarab, to be focused on the task at hand, and instead he was wasting the storm on some wretched girl pawing at herself.

 _Why couldn't he look away?_

The scrying glass emitted no sound, but as the girl's lips parted, Jafar could have sworn he heard the faintest echo of a moan. She was not beautiful in the Arabian style, although her large dark eyes were arresting. But there was really nothing about her that should have so captivated Jafar's attention…not even the fact that her blue garment was lying on the floor, and a white under-robe was gaping open. Her skin was the color of the desert dunes, struck glaring white by the noonday sun. Blushing nipples peeped coyly out at him.

 _Damn it all, why couldn't he look away?_

Nothing about this girl should have appealed. Jafar liked his women to have a brash sensuality, to breathe pleasure into his veins, and then be gone. He would never even have them perform for him, as he knew other men craved. Jafar was not interested in the women's pleasure; he was there for himself, and the women were there only for him. The fact that this girl's slender hand gently stoked her own stomach, the nimble fingers combing through the curly nether-hair, should inspire no reaction with in his mind.

Jafar realized his hands had paled from blood loss as he gripped the table, and tore himself away with a low growl. But his eyes never left the image of the girl. The room darkened to his eyes, and the sounds of the fierce storm dimmed down to a low hush. All that existed was this girl…and her innocence. Jafar let out a low bark of laughter. For all that she was carefully pinching a nipple, for all that her long legs had fallen open, revealing her hidden treasure to Jafar's greedy eyes; the girl had an air of undeniable innocence about her.

Jafar wanted that innocence. He wanted to see her flare into sudden passion as the heat of lust coursed through her. He wanted that foreign head thrown back, that pale mouth, with its faint echoing moans reverberating through his skull, crying out in glory. He wanted her to lose that precious innocence, _and he wanted her to lose it to him._

 _Provincial France, 1769_

Belle's head fell back against her pillow, her lips curving upward in a relaxed smile. All her clothes were in a heap next to her bed, but she could think of that later. For now, all she was thinking of was herself. And, perhaps, of her imagined watcher. As much as she had been initially horrified by the idea of someone peering into her privacy Belle relaxed into the thought as she traced circles along the backs of her thighs. Perhaps if it was someone she wanted, standing just out of view… well, there would be nothing wrong with that. She delicately stroked the tender crook of her knee, enjoying the tickling sensation.

She opened her eyes and looked down, across her body. She liked her breasts at this angle; they were soft and full and shuddered with every move she made, making her nipples stand proudly firm. Besides, when her breasts were like this, Belle could caress the sensitive, silky undersides.

Her lips compressed in a low hum of pleasure as she moved her hands up and down along her calf, then back up, up her leg, higher and higher, teasing herself. After all, it wasn't as if she was in a rush. Belle's smile broadened. Sometimes, it was nice to take time for herself. Her fingertips danced ever closer to her opening and Belle groaned. As wonderful as she could make herself feel, a part of her did wish there truly was someone behind the door…someone who would stride into the room, and see her, splayed and vulnerable, who would bury his tongue inside her… _ohhhhhhhhhh._ Thunder rumbled, as if the storm approved of her fantasy.

Belle finally allowed her hands to reach the jointure between her legs. With one hand she smoothed across the outer lips, luxuriating in the thick wetness that coated them. Moving with aching slowness, she spread the lips apart, and ran the tip of one finger around the flexed open entrance, across the smooth expanse of tingling skin, and brushed it ever so daintily across the tip of her now exposed pearl. Belle flicked the flushed nub a few times, and felt her jaw clench.

She needed this. For all that it would be wonderful to have a lover, someone who truly valued her as a person, sometimes she simply needed a physical release. She slid a single finger inside herself, and the storm raged. Curious. Belle normally didn't feel tired before she began. Perhaps a nap, and then she could wake herself with pleasure.

Lightning arced across the two skies, merging them.


End file.
